I've written a dozen poems
for each feeling I've ever had--
for every miniscule crush,
a simple flutter or skipped beat of my heart,
for every tear that blurred my sight and
salted my tongue (raising my blood pressure),
for literal and figurative red on my hands
or another's bloodthirsty lips,
for the swinging doors in my life,
coming and going before I've finished exhaling,
for the revolving doors who always usher in
the same breeze, the same dust, the same litter,
for the stones in my stomach that never pass
(or pass painfully),
for my trembling fingers and the hands that
steady them (or the hands that don't).
For every breathe I take,
there is a poem in my head,
but I look at you,
I touch you, I kiss you,
and